I Could Grab It With My Nub
by Kelly1
Summary: Subtitled “Strawberries at Midnight” Waff-y Acolyte slash! Remy/John, Gambit/Pyro. Take your pick . . . fun and cute and utterly pointless. ^_^


Waff-y acolyte slash!! Set after um . . . that last episode . . . _Under Lock and Key_? Yes? *is confused* (*is easily confused*) when Bobby freezes poor sweet Pyro's hands. I know Pyro's name is St.John, and pronounced Sinjin. I'm aware of that, I truly am. BUT, X-evo is calling him John apparently (maybe it's easier for kids to pronounce, I mean they changed Toddles and Avalanchys name, didn't they?) So, I'm calling him John for this fic. You've been informed, it's Marvel, not me . . . yes. Marvel . . . your gods and mine . . . put down the pitchforks aimed at Kelly's head . . . okay then . . . 

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I Could Grab It With My Nub

**   
or _ Strawberries at Midnight _   
Kelly   
li_luva_2000@yahoo.ca   
www.geocities.com/xpressionismx - shameless self promotion, yes . . . 

Remy grinned tauntingly at him, biting into the beveled red flesh of the strawberry with unconscious sexiness. John sighed in mock exasperation. "Must you tease me?" 

He licked the juice from his fingertips. "I must." He carefully de-stemmed another berry in the midnight silence of their makeshift kitchen. Everyone else had presumably gone to bed. That or they were plotting evil schemes to take over the world, you know, the usual . . . 

"Oh honestly," the boy otherwise known as the super-villain Pyro humphed. Though it was debatable if he looked especially "super-villain-y" in his ratty plaid boxers, his hands submerged in a flowered bowl of lukewarm water. Or sounded especially "super-villain-y" whining, for that matter. 

"Oh honestly." A southern drawl imitating the Australian accent. Another devilish grin. He was infuriating. He popped the berry into his mouth. John, attempting to remove his hands from the tepid bath, was met with a disapproving whap on the back of the head from none other than his taunter. "Back in the water." 

"But I just want to grab a strawberry before you eat them all," he grumbled, obeying the older boy grudgingly. 

"You won't have anything to grab it with if your fingers fall off from frostbite, now will you?" 

"I could grab it with my nub!" He inspected his purplish palms underwater. "Don't understand why stupid Coldguy had to go and freeze my hands anyway. That's just being a poor sport." 

"I don't think his codename's _Coldguy_." 

"_Sorry_," he sarcasmed, "Didn't mean to insult your new boyfriend, Gambit." 

Remy rolled his eyes. "_New _ boyfriend? What happened to my old one?" 

"That sexy Australian god dropped your sorry ass when he realized he was obviously too good for you." 

"Obviously." 

"Obviously," John grinned. "You might be able to win him back by feeding him some strawberries, though." 

"I don't know. Coldguy's got one hell of a nice rear." 

He narrowed his eyes playfully. "Gotta get past all that institute security first, mate." 

"That's true. You're easy. Always keep a backdoor open . . ." 

"I resent that. You make me sound like a slut." 

"Aren't you?" 

"Well yes, but you don't need to go announcing it." 

"Sorry lover." He kissed John on the tip on his nose, leaving behind sticky remnants of berry juice. The smell made his mouth water. Remy pulled back slowly and watched him, the red eyes never leaving his face with an almost eerie intensity. 

"What?" 

He shrugged, breaking the deep stare and smiling. "You're hot when you beg." 

"I'm hot all the time." 

"Ha, ha," he responded dryly. He shrugged again. "You're certainly not when someone freezes your hands." 

"You just _ had _ to bring that up, didn't you?" 

"Indeed," the smile grew wider, the dimple in his left cheek making an appearance. 

"You're a true man of tact." 

"I know, it's all that good southern breeding. Makes me irresistible." 

"Truly." 

"You better not be being sarcastic, lover." 

"Or what? You'll challenge me to a duel,_ monsieur_." 

"Yes," Remy answered deadpan, "We'll have a boomerang duel at sunset, _ mate_." 

"You're _ hilarious _." 

"Hey, don't look at me. You're the one who started with the stereotypes." 

"True. You know what the sad thing is, though?" 

"What?" 

"I won a boomerang contest back in grade three." 

"Wow. I learn something new about you every day." 

"I'm a man of mystery." 

"An international man of mystery." 

"Indeed." 

"So how are your hands feeling?" 

"With a complex center of nerve endings sending impulses through my spine to my brain, where they are interpreted as the sense of touch." 

"Droll, very droll, ya wise ass." His response received another thwap on the head from Remy. "Is it even possible for you to be serious for a second?" 

"A metric second or an imperial one?" 

"There are _ metric _ seconds?" 

John laughed, "No, you dear sweet gullible man. Time is a sexagesimal system that's the same in both metric and imperial." 

"How can a boy who knows words like 'sexagesimal' still be dumb enough to put tin foil in the microwave? It boggles the mind." 

"Shut up. It was one time. One." 

"We still had to get a new microwave." 

"Shut up," he pouted, watching as the older boy downed another of the sweet fruits. "And I want strawberries, dammit!" 

"Aww, puddin'. . ." 

"I will not sit here and be patronized." 

"So stand then." 

"I think I will." The red-headed boy rose from the cheap vinyl chair, glaring at the other with defiance. A moment of silence passed between them in the semi-dark kitchen as they stared each other down. "My feet hurt." 

Remy laughed. "Well, I don't think you should be standing on them, then. Or even sitting for that matter. It looks to me like you'll have to be carried to bed." 

"Oh damn, what a shame," he grinned. 

"You sound truly disappointed." 

"Oh I am. Terribly so. But Remy darling, what if my fingers fall off because I took them out of the water too soon?" 

"I thought you were happy using your nubs." 

"Could you love a man with nubs?" 

"Oh hell no, I'd drop you in a second," he teased, sliding his hand down and scooping John into his arms. 

"Not quite the reaffirmation of unconditional love I was looking for." 

"They're nubs. I'm sorry but that's just weird. Besides, that's never going to happen." 

"And why not?" 

"Because apparently body heat's really good at remedying frostbite." 

"Oh really," he mused, stroking the thick brown hair, "I thought that was hypothermia." 

Remy shrugged, "Same difference. Besides, did you really think I was going to carry you all the way upstairs to your room, and then walk all the way back down to mine? Hell no, you're bunking with me tonight lover." 

"You sure you won't be thinking of Coldguy." 

"Oh most definitely. He's way cuter than you." Remy placed a strawberry softly on John's closed lips. 

He took it between his teeth. "Mmphank-oo." 

The brown haired youth grinned devilishly. "You know, strawberries are supposed to be an aphrodisiac." 

"Wwreally?" It was very difficult to smirk suggestively while eating. 

"You wanna go test that theory lover?" 

The End? 

I don't know why I put the question mark . . . possibly cause I loved this so much I have the urge to write some more Remy/John slash. If only for my own personal amusement, bwahahaha! 


End file.
